“Jenny and I are Willa and Obadiah Jones,” my father said, “and we run the Gold City Inn.” He looked at me. “And last but not least we have … ”
The group turned my way. Heat climbed up my neck, but I had to ignore it. The quicker I said my bit, the quicker attention would turn to someone else. I tipped an imaginary Stetson. “Sheriff Amelia Dawson, at your service.”
Kenzie actually clapped. “That’s awesome.”
“No freaking fair,” Geoff said. “She can’t be sheriff. Not historically accurate.”
Mom laughed. “Guilty as charged. Now everyone can get their characters ready, and I’ll go check on the enchiladas.”
“Wait,” Molly said. “Who’s playing the mayor? Didn’t someone say there was a mayor?” She looked from Cady to my dad.
“Clever Molly,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes, but poor Mayor Maxwell Huntington has recently died. We’ll tell you more about that during dinner.”
A few “Oohs” and “Ahs” rang out, and then people started milling about the room. Kyle came and leaned over my armchair. “Ready to run away to California?” he whispered.
I couldn’t read the look in his eyes, but a happy warmth filled my chest. “I thought we’d try something new. How about joining the circus?”
“The circus is in town? Why am I always the last to know?”
“Because you’ve been hiding out in the studio, sculpting.”
He leaned a little closer, but suddenly Kenzie stood in front of us. “What’re y’all plotting?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Nada,” Kyle said and sat on the arm of the chair.
Why did that one simple action make me want to smile? It was a weird feeling. Like he was on my side, supporting me.
“I don’t believe you,” Kenzie said. “You’re going to make a run for it, aren’t you?”
Kyle and I exchanged a look. “As if your aunt and uncle wouldn’t kill us if we did,” he said.
“True,” she said, still giving us the side-eye.
Dylan appeared on my other side, and I practically jumped. Talk about being surrounded. “Come on, Kenz. You need to get your hooker outfit before Geoff takes all the best costumes.”
Kyle barked out a laugh.
Kenzie twisted her lips. “Want to switch characters, Amanda? I’d make a mean sheriff.”
I coughed. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”
“You’re no fun,” Kenzie said.
“But I’m smart, remember? You told me so yourself.”
“All right,” Kenzie said, pulling Dylan up. “Help me find a feather boa.” They strolled off.
“Find that sheriff badge for me,” I called after them.
Kenzie nodded.
“So the circus is out of the running?” Kyle asked.
“Looks like it,” I said, getting up. “But let’s not rule it out completely. Things could get really weird.”
“Could they?” he asked with a completely straight face.
“Definitely. But I’ll have your back if you have mine.”
“You got it.” He stood. “Now I need to find something that’ll make me feel spoiled and pompous.”
“Come on. I’ve got just the thing.”
***
Halfway through dinner, it became clear that every single one of the suspects in this murder mystery story had a motive to kill the mayor, who’d been poisoned. My father read the background story as we ate, and I hated to admit it, but I was actually enjoying this. There wasn’t a whole lot of performing to do. We just had to pretend to be our characters, who were supposedly having a tension-filled meal before the reading of the will.
I thought as the sheriff I’d be innocent, but it turned out that I was against the mayor’s plan to bring in the railroad because more people in town meant more crime. But when I’d tried to get him to stop, he’d said it wouldn’t matter because he’d be replacing me anyway. Ha. I didn’t know this mayor and I did want to kill him.
Cady and Kyle’s characters had come to town from Philadelphia because they’d heard Mayor Huntington planned to invest half his fortune in the railway, and they wanted to change his mind.
And on it went.
Kyle sat across from me, wearing his Theodore Huntington name tag and the blue and silver ascot I’d picked out for him from the costume bin. And even though I knew I shouldn’t focus on his appearance, I’d decided he looked adorably silly and I’d be happy to stare at him for hours. Definitely not a good sign.
We were basically ad-libbing info that we’d gotten from our index cards in the hopes that someone would let a clue slip, and we could figure out the murderer’s identity. And Cady was really getting into it.
“Well,” she said with what could only be called a harrumph, “I am sure I don’t know why dear Maxwell moved to this dreary backwater town, but he would never countenance investing in a railway to such a place. Which one of you put the idea to him?”
Kyle chewed on his cheek, probably so he wouldn’t laugh.
“Why, that would be me, Mrs. Huntington,” my father said. “Willa and I believe a railway would promote the prosperity our beloved town deserves.”
“I cannot see how it deserves any such thing, Mr. Jones. Don’t you agree, Theodore?”
Kyle raised his eyebrow in that arrogant look I’d begun to enjoy seeing. Especially since I knew that underneath he was sweet and considerate and caring. It gave me a little thrill to think I understood things about him that maybe the others didn’t. “Yes, dear Aunt,” he drawled. “Prosperity is for large cities like our beloved Philadelphia.”
Dad frowned and Geoff scoffed. “Philadelphia can kiss my—”
“Wyatt, control yourself,” Dylan said. “There are ladies present.”
“Not all of them are ladies,” Geoff said, tilting his head at Kenzie.
“Quite,” Kyle said in such a snobby tone that I wanted to kiss him. No—make that tackle him, then kiss him. Only as a joke, though.
He was being such a good sport about this stupid dinner. I couldn’t believe that a week ago I thought we’d never be friends. But we absolutely were. He’d become someone I trusted and cared about.
He laughed at something Kenzie had just said, his relaxed expression making me want to run my fingers across his cheek. Uh-oh. I really did want to kiss him. For real. Instant butterflies dive-bombed my stomach. What was I thinking? I couldn’t do that. We were both still getting over being dumped. Totally bad timing.
I smoothed the napkin in my lap. Focus, Amanda. Murder mystery, remember?
“Sheriff Dawson?”
Molly touched my arm. I looked around. All eyes were fastened on me. I gripped my knife and fork so I wouldn’t fidget. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Get your head in the game, Sheriff,” Geoff said. “We want to know why you haven’t made an arrest yet.”
“I, uh … ”
“Come on. Clementine just admitted she went to the mayor’s house that night. She could’ve easily poisoned his nightly tonic water.”
“So did Mrs. Huntington,” my mom said as the innkeeper’s wife. “I followed her.”
Cady placed a hand on her own cheek. “Well. It’s clear to see what kind of people are considered community leaders in Gold City.”
There were chuckles around the table, but I was still staring at Geoff. He’d spoken in that tone he sometimes used when he wanted people to think he was smart and funny. I clenched my jaw. Maybe it was because I’d just been caught not paying attention, or maybe it was because I felt like hitting him, but I said, “So, Wyatt, how exactly did you know that Mayor Huntington enjoyed a nightly glass of tonic water?”
Noah laughed. “Got you there, ole Wyatt.”
Geoff sputtered. “But … everybody knew that. Right, Belinda?”
He turned to Molly, who gave him one of her Mona Lisa smiles. “I didn’t.”
“I didn’t either,” Gabby said, referring to her index card.
“Hmm,”
I said. “Show of hands from those who knew about the mayor’s tonic water habit.” Everyone else raised a hand. I smiled at Molly and Gabby. “I suppose that moves you ladies down the list.”
“Not necessarily,” Dad said with a wink.
“Yeah, not necessarily,” Geoff said, but his protest felt weak.
“Does anybody want anymore enchiladas before dessert?” Mom asked.
Responses came from around the table just as someone tapped my foot. I looked up. Kyle lifted his chin and smiled. Slowly. A shiver ran down my back. Oh, dang. I really wanted to kiss him. This was bad. So very, very bad.
Eighteen
After our dessert of sopapillas, which included the reading of the will, we wandered back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, questioning each other about our alibis. Turned out that all Mayor Huntington’s money went to his relatives, except a small portion he’d left to support the town’s school.
“Well, Miss Carter,” Geoff said, “looks like you’ve got a little more reason to want the old mayor dead.”
Molly pressed her hand to her chest. “This comes as much a surprise to me as it is to everyone else.”
He tilted his head. “Does it though?”
She ignored that. “It must have been so hard for you, Mr. Jackson, to think the new railroad was about to put you out of a job.”
Geoff just laughed. “Nice try.”
We made notes on our index cards as we questioned people, trying to narrow down the possible suspects for the mayor’s murder. I’d just asked Dylan, a.k.a. Kit McIntyre, if Mayor Huntington had visited the saloon that night.
“Yes, ma’am, Sheriff Amelia,” Dylan said, fighting a grin. “He was there for about an hour, nursing a whiskey.”
“What time?”
“’Bout eight-thirty to nine-thirty.”
“You don’t have to do an accent,” I said, writing down the information.
Dylan shrugged. “Might as well.”
“And where were you at the time of the murder?” I asked him.
“In the saloon, making sure my customers didn’t rob me blind.”
“Ha,” I said and looked up from my note card. Across the room, Kyle stood listening to Noah, but his gaze was on me. He didn’t have any particular expression on his face, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted to tell me something or was just watching me. I also didn’t know which of those options I wanted. When Dylan examined his own index card, I mouthed “What?” to Kyle, but he turned and laughed at something Noah had said.
Geez. Guys were weird.
“So, Sheriff,” Dylan said, “where were you at the time of the murder?”
Oh. I had to answer that, didn’t I?
“Yeah, Sheriff,” Geoff said, suddenly appearing next to us. “Where were you?”
“Taking one of my nightly strolls through town,” I said. “Just making sure everything was safe and secure.”
“But everything wasn’t safe, was it?” Geoff said, like he’d scored a major point. “The mayor was murdered!”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he turned toward our mother. “Mrs. Jones, the sheriff is glaring at me again.”
She laughed. “Deal with it, Wyatt.”
“Ha,” I said. “So there.”
He stuck his tongue out right when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked up sheepishly.
“Oops, historical anachronism there,” my dad said.
Geoff gasped dramatically. “You’re from the future?”
Everyone standing nearby laughed. “Excuse me, boys,” I said, “an urgent telegram has just arrived that I must see to.”
Geoff’s eyes went wide. “How do you know?” he asked, still milking this shtick for everything it was worth.
“Mental telepathy,” I said and moved to the corner of the room to check my phone. I wouldn’t have bothered, but if there was any chance it might be Gamma, I had to check.
It was the last person I expected.
Alex: Hey, babe. How’s it going? I miss you. Wanna hang out?
What the? What was wrong with him? He dumps me and then months later texts me like nothing ever happened? A wild, almost hysterical laugh gurgled in my throat. The jerk. He wanted to hang out? Now? How could he even think I’d consider it?
I wanted to pace, to rant and rave about Alex, but I couldn’t. We were in the middle of this game. Agh. I wished I hadn’t checked my phone. Now I was going to be obsessing about the text for the rest of the night.
I needed to talk to somebody about this. I scanned the room. Molly and Cady huddled close together. Maybe they were comparing investigation notes. Kenzie and Dylan stood talking with Kyle. He’d definitely understand the need to rant. Maybe I could steal him away for a couple of minutes. Also, it’d be easier to pretend it was about the game.
I walked up to them. Kenzie was speaking. “But you saw me, Kit. I was in the saloon the whole time.”
Dylan lifted a finger. “Ah, but we were very busy that night. I can’t account for your whereabouts the entire time.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “Mr. Huntington, may I have a word with you?”
Kyle looked down his nose at me. “Certainly, Sheriff.”
He followed me out onto the front porch where the light was still on and a mild breeze lifted the ends of my hair. I wanted to go storming up and down the driveway, but I didn’t want extra questions from anyone who might come outside. I dove right in. “So, that text.”
“Yeah?”
“It was from my ex, trying to reconnect.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And I’m so angry I could spit.”
He gestured to the yard. “Go ahead.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you just listen while I rant?”
“Sure. Okay if I sit? I’ve been wanting to try these rocking chairs.” He gestured to the four huge rockers we kept on the porch in the summer. I waved a hand, trying to get my breathing under control. It wasn’t working. “Go for it,” he said, setting the rocker in motion.
“How dare he text me? How dare he act like nothing ever happened?” I paced the area in front of the chairs, passing my phone from one hand to the other. “‘Wanna hang out?’” I mimicked. “As if I were just waiting for him to come over or something.”
“Hmm. Were you?”
“No! You of all people should know that after I splashed clay all over the place.”
“Right.”
“I hate that he thinks I’d just jump the second I hear from him.”
“Did you text him back?”
I scowled. “No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I paused and stared at my phone. “I kinda want to tell him to go to hell.”
Kyle snickered. “Okay.”
“I also don’t want to even respond. He’s not worth it.”
“I agree completely.”
The door opened, and Geoff stuck his head out. “Hey, guys, come on. Molly thinks she knows who the killer is.”
“Be right there,” I said, and surprisingly, Geoff left.
Kyle got up. “You’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?”
I twisted my hair into a messy bun. “I guess. I’m still just mad.”
“I get it.”
I relaxed a bit. All thoughts of kissing aside, he really had turned into a good friend. “Thanks for listening.”
“Any time.”
We went inside for the big announcement. Everybody had gathered in the living room.
Ten minutes later, we were done. Molly explained her deductions very clearly. Clementine Fields, Kenzie’s character, killed the mayor because she found out he was her real father and he refused to acknowledge her or take care of her. So all the stuff about the railroad coming to town was just a side show.
Dad presented Molly with a small plaque that read “Best Sleuth, Ruidoso Summer Vacation” and the
year. She curtseyed and said, “I must thank Mrs. Huntington for sharing her theories.”
“You are very welcome, dear,” Cady said.
Geoff spoke up from the armchair. “Does the sheriff get to arrest Clementine now?”
Kenzie dropped her notes as if she were in shock and said, “You’ll never take me alive,” before bolting from the room.
Dylan and Geoff raced after her. Shrieks and shouts rang out, along with the banging of the back door. It happened so fast that the rest of us just stared after them dumbly for several seconds. Then Cady laughed. “There’s never a dull moment in this house.”
“Sad, but true,” Mom said.
I gathered up Kenzie’s cards and set them on a side table. The murder mystery thing had been more like a long game than one of our summer performances. Too bad Alex had to text and put me in a bad mood. I really liked the evening otherwise. It was also too bad that Gamma and Haley weren’t here. They would’ve really enjoyed it.
Moments later, Kenzie, Dylan, and Geoff strolled through the front door, their faces a little red, smiling. “Anyone want more sopapillas?” Kenzie asked before heading for the kitchen.
“Oh, I do,” Gabby said.
We spent the next half hour sitting around and talking, my phone feeling like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Should I text Alex back?
When it came time for Cady and Kyle to leave, the entire group pushed out onto the front porch, Kyle hanging back to walk out with me. Up ahead, my parents chatted with Cady, and the others discussed finding a movie to watch.
Kyle dipped his head toward my ear. “You want to come over tomorrow?” he asked in a low voice. “Make sure Cady is staying out of trouble?”
Did this mean more than he was saying? I couldn’t tell; I was horrible at reading guys. “It’s what the sheriff does.”
Kyle grinned, then briefly touched my hand with his fingers.
Tingle alert! I put on what I hoped was a pleasant face, trying to hide the way his touch affected me.
“About eleven?” he asked.
I exhaled shallowly. “Will there be bacon?”
Amanda Vs The Universe Page 13
